


Carson City

by 391780 (goblinparty)



Series: Cold Wind [12]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblinparty/pseuds/391780
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The forest was dense and dark behind the extravagantly large house, which made it perfect cover for the two men watching it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carson City

The forest was dense and dark behind the extravagantly large house, which made it perfect cover for the two men watching it. It was set back from the main road by a long driveway and surrounded by a thick grove of trees, isolating it from whatever neighbors were around. Numbers was dying for a cigarette, but couldn't risk having the glow of his cherry give them away. He watched Wrench write in his little notebook, taking note of the times the armed security made a lap around the outside of the house. He stood up and stretched, passing Numbers the binoculars.

_He makes his rounds on the half hour. If yesterday and the day before are any indication, he'll go off duty around 6 and the next guy will take over. We can get the new guy just after dark, sneak in, kill C-a-r-s-o-n-c-i-t-y, do what needs done, and get out within a half an hour. As you say, easy p-e-a-s-y._ Wrench smiled at his partner.

Numbers nodded, lifting the binoculars to his eyes. Large bay windows allowed him to watch the balding fat man inside pour himself a drink and ease himself into an overstuffed chair. Carson City pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, unconsciously taunting Numbers, who decided he would take a lot more joy in his death than originally anticipated. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

_Why is a guy named C-a-r-s-o-n-c-i-t-y living in Montana?_

_Long story short, R-e-n-o ran him out._

_Maybe R-e-n-o should be paying us._

Numbers snorted.  _I'd love to see his face when you ask._

Night fell quickly, and Wrench and Numbers silently approached the house. They paused for a moment against a wall, waiting for the man working security to round the corner. Numbers saw him, and yanked the barrel of his semiautomatic while Wrench bore down on his head with a ball peen hammer, spraying blood and brains on the white snow. The body hit the ground with a muffled thump, and the two killers quietly pushed open the sliding glass door, stepping inside. Numbers paused inside the doorway and tapped Wrench on the arm.

_I hear water running upstairs. Sounds like he's running a bath or something._

_That makes a sound?_

Numbers nodded distractedly, leading the way up the winding staircase. He could hear a male voice half humming and half singing a tune he didn't recognize. The sound of the water stopped when they reached the landing, and Numbers held up a fist, signaling for Wrench to stay very still. He strained his ears trying to hear movement, fondling the gun in his coat pocket. A gentle sloshing sound came from behind the door at the end of the hall, and Numbers motioned to his partner to continue forward. They walked softly down the carpeted hallway, pausing only to share a glance right outside the door. Numbers stepped back, and Wrench kicked in the door with a loud crash. Carson City sat in the claw foot bathtub, a bewildered look on his face.

“Who the fuck are you?” bellowed the man in the water. Wrench quickly approached the tub and grabbed Carson City's ankles, lifting them as high as he could. Carson City slipped back under the water, thrashing wildly to get free and get his head above water. He grabbed at the edge of the tub, trying to raise himself up, but Numbers stomped on his hands, forcing him to let go and fall back against the bottom of the bathtub. Large bubbles erupted from the large man's mouth as he screamed in panic, thrashing about wildly. After a few minutes, Carson City was entirely still. Wrench dropped his legs, boyishly grinning at Numbers.

_I never would have guessed taking out a rival syndicate head would be so easy!_

_He's not dead yet, just unconscious. We gotta wait around for ten minutes or so just to be sure._

_OK, you go through the house and rummage around, I'll stay here with the little mermaid and make sure he stays under._

Numbers gave a sharp nod and headed out the door. Fargo had been explicit in his instructions- kill Carson City, ransack the house, make it look like a robbery so no one would suspect Fargo. Numbers fully intended on actually robbing the house, he figured he'd pawn off whatever he stole whenever Fargo sent him and Wrench out of state next. He pulled a plastic garbage bag from his pocket, shaking it open. He pulled drawers out, dumping their contents onto the floor, pawing through papers and trinkets with gloved hands. He made his way quickly through the massive house, admiring the ornate rugs and window treatments. He found his way into a wood paneled office, and rifled through the large mahogany desk. He made quick work of the lock on the bottom drawer, and peeked inside. File folders with different labels such as _Product, Bank,_ and _Assets_. Numbers pulled the folders from the desk, but a loud crash from from the bathroom startled him.

The folders tumbled from his hands, photographs and documents covering the floor. He knelt to the ground, picking them up and scanning each before returning it to the folder. Numbers froze. Staring back at him from the pile of dossiers on the floor was a photo of a very familiar face, copper curls sticking out in every direction. His mind reeled. Why was Wrench's picture in the folder of Carson City's assets? He felt short of breath, was everything a lie? Even the kisses, the kind words, the early morning pancakes? Numbers' stomach lurched, and he collapsed into a seated position on the floor. He felt nauseous and humiliated. But why would Wrench kill Carson City? What did he gain? Was he promised a seat at the table by Carson City's second in command? Numbers heard Wrench's heavy footsteps approaching, and quickly tried to regain his composure. If Wrench was a traitor, he had to keep thinking his cover was intact. Numbers quickly shoved the remaining photos and documents into the plain brown folder just as Wrench stepped into the room.

_Find anything?_

_Some stuff on trucking routes. Should be useful to Fargo._

_Excellent. This job is more profitable than we anticipated._ Wrench grinned broadly, and Numbers felt his heart break at the sight of it. He forced a smile and lifted his heavy plastic bag.

_I managed to grab some loose cash and watches, I figure we can profit from this just as well as Fargo can._

_Clever you._ Wrench leaned over and gently kissed his partner's bearded cheek. Numbers felt nauseous again.

___  
Numbers sat on the edge of the bed, pretending to watch the muted television. He anxiously drummed his fingers on his thigh, his mind spinning. He had to do something about this, but had no idea as to what. He watched his partner scarf down a slice of cheap pizza, grunting out a chuckle at whatever was on television. Numbers felt a twinge in his chest. He had to ask Wrench about the file, there way no way around it, but no matter what the truth was, this night would not end well. He rose up off the bed, and dug into his bag. He pulled the photo of Wrench out, as well as his gun. 

Wrench watched Numbers turn to sit at the chair next to the table, and watched as he gently placed his handgun on the table, pointed directly at Wrench.

_We need to talk._

Wrench sat up straighter, squaring his shoulders, trying desperately to hide his fear and hurt and confusion.

_I found a photo of you in C-a-r-s-o-n-c-i-t-y's desk. Why?_ Numbers lightly laying his hand on his weapon while waiting for an answer.

_I don't know._ Wrench's brain felt entirely blank.

_Stop lying to me!_ A single tear rolled down Number's cheek, his hands shaking in rage and despair.

_I'm not, I wouldn't! Please!_

_Liar! **Traitor!** _

_No! Why would I kill C-a-r-s-o-n-c-i-t-y if I was working for him? It doesn't make sense!_

_You got offered a promotion. A seat at the table. I've seen it before. I wouldn't put it past you._ Numbers was snarling now.

Wrench let out a dry sob. Tears streamed down his face. He couldn't believe this was happening. He wanted to close his eyes and disappear, and make all of this end. He watched as Numbers stood quickly, tossing a photograph into his lap. A familiar face stared up at him. Wrench balked.

_I trusted you. I confided in you. I was even stupid enough to believe you loved me._ Numbers' bottom lip quivered, betraying his emotions.

_I know how this is going to sound, but I swear this isn't me._ Wrench pointed to the faded photograph in his lap.

_Don't insult me. I'm not fucking stupid._

_A-d-a-m, listen to me._

_**STOP.** _ Numbers hand slammed down on his palm, his eyes stinging with tears.

Wrench held up the photograph, pointing to a mole on the neck of the man in the picture, then pointed to the blank space on his own neck where the mole should have been.

_It's D-a-l-e._ Wrench looked entirely wrecked. Numbers pushed his gun away, and quickly stepped forward to hold his partner. Wrench held him tight, sobbing into his shoulder. 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so so so sorry.” Numbers cooed into Wrench's neck, rubbing small circles on his back. Wrench pulled back, sniffling.

_They're gonna make me kill him. Fargo's going to make me kill him, just like you with your dad. I know I can't do it. They'll make you kill me._ Wrench began sobbing into his hands. Numbers turned to rummage in his bag. Wrench watched with bloodshot eyes as Numbers produced a few sheets of paper from the black leather bag, and hastily scribbled down something on a post-it note. He grabbed the small trash can by the bed and turned back to Wrench.

_Give me the photo._ Wrench handed it to him, and watched as Numbers produced a lighter, burning the photos and documents in the garbage can, waving at the smoke to dissipate it. He held Wrench's face in his hands, tenderly kissing him across the forehead.

_Fargo will never find out. I won't allow it._

Wrench scooped Numbers up in his arms, lifting the smaller man off his feet. He squeezed his partner as hard as he could, ignoring the vibrations of protest emanating from Numbers' chest. After what seemed like eternity, he put Numbers back down on the ground and let go.

_Thank you. Thank you. I love you._ A tear soaked smile split his face.

_Of course. You're my partner, in every sense of the word._ He picked up the post it note from the table.  _I have his address. We can't contact him yet, but when the dust settles I think you should see him. Maybe convince him to come to Fargo._

Wrench nodded, sniffling and wiping his eyes. He wondered what on earth he would have done without Numbers.

_I'm sorry about what I said. About how this went down. I panicked._

_I understand. I'm not angry, I would have been beside myself if I had thought you'd deceived me._ Numbers sat on the bed, completely exhausted. He patted the space on the mattress next to him, and Wrench gingerly sat down. 

_Twins, huh?_

_Yeah._

_Jesus, I thought my life was complicated when there was just one of you._

Wrench playfully punched him on the shoulder, and then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. Whatever happened next, he was grateful to have such a wonderful man at his side.

 


End file.
